Fiction Short Story

Sue Borgstad

"Windigo"

Roger heard a footfall sound softly on the porch stairs. Still within his dream, he snuggled deeper into his covers and ignored the warning. The significance of the noise finally triggered his inner alarm and he sat bolt upright. He and his family were vacationing at their lakefront property. The area was nearly deserted at this time of year. A blizzard was brewing in the clouds and foreboding winds howled through the tall, dancing firs. Uncertain what had wakened him he listened intently into the quiet hum of the sleeping cottage. He glanced at his wife, Janice, to assure himself she had not been disturbed, tiptoed over to his closet door and pulled down the bathrobe he had casually draped over it a mere two hours earlier.

Yawning hugely and rubbing his itchy, sleepy eyes, he shuffled down the moonlit hallway to make certain everything was secure. He shivered at the ominous sound of the soughing winds as he stopped at his daughter Leanne's door and peeked in to make sure she was sleeping soundly, then into his son Norman's room where he assured himself everything seemed A-okay in the Patterson household.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. He stifled a scream, whirled around and stared his startled wife in the eye.

"I've seen calmer cats," she remarked, a little taken aback by her husband's reaction.

Roger leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were a burglar. I almost had heart failure," he whispered.

"Why would you think I was a burglar?"

"I don't know. Something woke me. I'm not sure what."

"Why are we whispering?"

Another footfall sounded on the porch stairs. They stared round-eyed at each other. A loud banging reverberated through the cabin and a deep male voice hollered "Hello inside."

"Who's there?" Rogers voice quavered slightly. "What do you want?"

"It's Leo Gervis and Bert Doans. We're the game wardens. We have to talk to you folks.

"The door, constructed from rough-hewn logs, required a good yank to open it. A sardonic greeting died on his lips when he looked up into the six-foot-four warden's steely gray eyes. A younger, smaller man with a pleasant smile stood next to him. They were both dressed casually in jeans, blue feather down jackets and light blue woolen toques.

"Hi, there, what can I do for you this early in the morning?

"The taller man nodded a greeting to him and Janice, then said goodbye to whoever had been on the other end of the cell phone pressed into his ear. "Sorry about that. I was checking in with the office. My name is Leo Gervis and my partner's name is Bert Doans. Sorry to disturb you this time of night but we came to advise you of a marauding grizzly in the area."

"Hello," Roger said, smiling slightly. I'm Roger Lester and this is my wife Janice. We're renting the cabin for a month from Connor Preston." He gave the Warden a small wry smile. "Doctor-enforced vacation. A grizzly, you say? In this area?"

Both game wardens nodded their hellos. "The odd one treks through once in a while. This one's been wily; he's avoided capture for over a week now. We wanted to alert you because he attacked some people in a cabin about ten miles from here a few days ago. Sorry we didn't drop by earlier, but we didn't know anybody was living here until we noticed your travel trailer parked in front of the shed."

"Aren't bears in hibernation by now? I didn't think there were any grizzlies in this area."

The first heavy snow of the winter had already fallen and the headlights of the warden's snowmobile, parked just in front of the tall, dark trees and brush, bounced from the white blanket into Roger's eyes making it difficult to see beyond vehicle. He thought he saw movement in the brush beyond the lights but he dismissed the idea. It was probably the wind moving around the trees.

Leo gave a short laugh. "I guess he didn't read the book. But, I just talked to base and they say he has been captured. Sorry to have bothered you folks." He flipped his cell shut and clipped it on his belt.

"Hi, kids," he said to Norman and Leanne who had come to see what the disturbance was all about.

This time Roger was certain he saw a dark shadow in the bushes. He was about to say something when he heard a hoarse snuffling noise and the cracking of tree limbs and an animal charged from the brush. When it reared onto its hind legs he was positive he had never seen anything so immense and menacing in his life. So humanlike in its actions. It let out a deafening shriek and still on two feet, charged the snowmobile. With one great swipe of a mighty paw the machine flew through the air and crashed into the ground.

"In the door! In the door!" Leo's voice was urgent but calm. All thought of civility was gone as he shoved everyone inside the cabin, heedless of the strength of his blows. "Now!"

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion to Roger as he and the two wardens herded his family to safety. He was shocked to realize the high-pitched strident voice blaring in his ears was his own. "Move! Move! Move!"

Thick log walls muted the snorts and hisses of the animal but it didn't make them any the less frightening.

"Oh, no!" Roger followed Leo's horrified gaze. He could see into the kitchen at the end of the long hallway and at the other side of the kitchen, a glass patio door.

"Do you know if there are any storm doors?" Leo asked Roger. "We sure could use some right about now."

Roger stared at Leo with fresh panic. "Yes, but they are in the shed. There is door leading off from the kitchen into the shed, but unfortunately its an outside door and wide open. We were busy taking our things out of the trailer and into the cabin and didn't think to lock up. There isn't anything of real value in it except the storm doors and windows and wood for the fireplace."

Roger glanced at Bert, who stood motionless in the middle of the room, his deep brown eyes filled with terror as he stared out the window. His lips were barely moving and Roger had to strain his hearing to make out the word.

"Windigo."

Leo spun on his heel and stared at Bert. "There is no such thing." He grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the couch. "It is only a myth."

Roger fastened his eyes on Leo as he and the rest of his family waited for an explanation.

"Bert is native Indian. His father was a shaman and he taught Bert to believe in all the old ways and legends. The Windigo is a mythical beast that comes for the soul of someone who has spent too long in the winter alone and hungry. He is said to ride the winter winds."

Another unearthly shriek surrounded the cabin and tore through all the tiny chinks and crevices.

"Windigo," tore from Bert's throat and he lost all color. "It's calling for me!" Roger thought the man was going to have a heart attack. His voice shook with fear. "I told you last winter it wants me. Ever since I escaped starvation and Louis didn't." He jumped from the couch, hit Leo solidly on the shoulder and ran for the door. "I have to go. It wants me. It has come for me. It wants my soul."

A mournful howl mixed with the wind's keening cry bounced from wall to wall. Roger was positive he could hear a strident voice hissing Bert's name.

Bert threw the door open and hollered into the wind. "I'm coming. I'm coming," and disappeared into the night.

They could hear his faint cry as he wept. "My soul. Oh, my poor soul. It hurts my soul." Then it faded away and only the wind remained, singing softly through huge boughs of the swaying trees.

Leo contacted the station and within fifteen minutes help arrived in the form of two more snowmobiles and four well-armed men. They waited until full daylight to try to find Bert's trail but his path through the snow ended beside imprints in the snow of two huge feet.

© Copyright September 2002 Sue Borgstad